


House M.D. D.A.D

by JoxersPrincess



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Baby, Fluff, Gen, Vaccinations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoxersPrincess/pseuds/JoxersPrincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little fluffy one shots. Some romantic. Some dealing with pregnancy/baby. There is no time line in this fluff collection, just fluffy one shots!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> White Coat Syndrome is something I suffer from. In the story, I say that White Coat Syndrome sufferers think the clean smell of a hospital is the smell of death. It is for me. Since I don't every sufferers opinion, I can only write about me.
> 
> I also understand that I spelled Foreman's name wrong.

Forman slammed the needle down onto the counter and let out an angry sigh. “Couldn’t Dr. House be here? Couldn’t Dr. House be holding Annie while you give her the shot?” he sneered. “I have better things to be doing than clinic duty.”

“Ruth can’t be here. She’s got group therapy,” said Greg House, talking of course of his wife and the mother of the infant in his lap. “Which is a lot more important than denying my daughter her booster shots.”

Everyone in the hospital knew Ruth House was not entirely sane. “Is this group therapy for Ruth or led by Ruth?” chuckled Forman. Greg narrowed his eyes. “Your wife is a bit loopy in the head. Nutty. I guess that should be expected, look at whom she married. A bitter, sarcastic, crippled doctor.”

Forman turned his back to House to crack open a plastic drip, the oral portion of the vaccines. “Remember this? The yummy juice?” he cooed to Annie in Greg’s lap. Forman put the drip into infant’s mouth and squeezed. The vaccine was not yummy juice. “Oh, what a good girl! Oh, what a good girl you’re being at your daddy’s work.”

Forman turned around to grab the needle as Greg undid the pant leg of Annie’s little flower pants, not liking the fact she was suddenly exposed, she began to fuss and smack House with an open palm. He kissed her head. “Daddy’s sorry about this, Bao Bei,” Greg said, Bao Bei meaning sweetheart in Chinese. Forman stuck the needle into Annie’s thigh.

She squealed and grabbed a hold on House’s shirt. Forman placed a Band-Aid on Annie’s thigh and went for the next needle. He turned her so Forman had access to her other thigh. “See, it’s not that bad,” cooed Forman, he flashed the infant a quick smile. He took a quicker sigh and he inhaled slowly, deeply, taking in the clean smell of the hospital; the same smell people suffering from White Coat Syndrome claim to be the smell of death. Forman could smell Greg, smelling of anxiety, fear and bacon and eggs. And so faintly, he might have been imagining it, the sweet smell of a tiny baby, who smelled of formula and juniper. “You barely cried.”

Her daddy kissed her head. “Daddy’s still real sorry about this, but it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad,” cooed Greg. The other needle went in and Annie started to cry. Forman got the last needle. “Just one more, dumpling, daddy’s sorry. Daddy is awfully sorry! You are just so mad!”

“You’re all done, dumpling,” said Forman, watching as House cradled her as she screamed. “Is this why Ruth decided to let you handle Annie’s vaccinations?”

Annie reached up, trying to touch her father’s nose, which just sent her into more tears when she could not reach his nose. Greg craned his neck down and allowed her to grab at his nose, chin, cheeks and ears. “She’s afraid of needles,” House said. Forman shot him a strange look. “I know, I know, a doctor who is afraid of needles is about as useful as a midget with a yo-yo, but Ruth is a counselor and a midget.”


	2. The Bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chase has to deal with a possible miscarriage…of Mrs. House

Ruth Wright House had the day off from the hospital psych-ward, something they had been giving her more of, the closer she reached her due date. Greg House saw to that. Ruth House was six months pregnant and taking glee at her days off, she had been feeling ill. Not a cold or a flu, House always put her to bed with a cup of tea and some neonatal vitamins.

Even in the afternoon! She still had a home to clean, still had a four year old to take care of! House kept the home somewhat tidy, but always made sure their daughter had her homework done, a story read to her and fed, all before eight o’clock, her bedtime. Even Cuddi had to admit, Greg was a great dad. But on some days, when House couldn’t leave the hospital, they just had to trust that Annie knew what stop was hers on the school bus route.

Annie Pierce House knew exactly what stop was hers. The fifth stop once they passed daddy’s ‘spital, her way of saying hospital. After all, she was the daughter of Gregory House MD and Ruth House MD, the stock she came from was not dumb stock, pass by on your good looks stock. But on days where Annie was stuck taking the bus, instead of daddy standing there, listing on his cane, Ruth took full advantage of the few hours alone she had.

Her daughter went to school from 8 in the morning to noon. Not a long time to tidy up the home, but enough time. And like most of Ruth’s days off, when she saw that yellow bus pull up outside, she put the vacuum cleaner away and crawled into bed and turned the TV on. She heard the door open, then close then a thunk by the door, the noise of a four year old dropping their backpack. “Mommy! I’m home!”

Annie saw her mommy laying in bed, not looking well, she skipped into the bathroom and got the fever stick, or as an adult would say, thermometer. The little girl slipped it between Ruth’s lips, ten seconds later, she flicked it out and tried to read it. How did daddy make it seem so easy? “Annie, can you get me some blankets?” She nodded and skipped out of the bedroom.

Annie came back with a ton of blankets and tucked her mommy into bed, kissing her mommy on the forehead, which was actually very hot. Just as daddy did. “Go watch TV,” smirked Ruth. Annie did as told.

Ten minutes into a cartoon, she heard something fall. Annie turned to see it was someone, her mother. Annie’s heart began to beat a little faster. Ruth looked to be in pain, blood stained her pajama pants. Her daughter ran and called Chase. “Chase? Mommy’s bleeding…I’m scared…” whimpered Annie.

“Is she still sick, sweetie?”

“Yeah…she’s bleeding bad.”

“Do you want me to get daddy?” asked Chase. Cuddi shook her head. House was busy with a patient, not actually meeting with the patient, but he was busy. “Daddy’s busy, sweetie.”

Chase was amazed at how calm Annie House was being on the telephone, her mother was in the other room, bleeding, which to a four year old could mean death. And too Annie, she figured her mother was laying on her deathbed. “Can mommy talk to you, dear?”

“A little bit,” said Annie. Annie swallowed hard, trying to fight down a sick feeling. “She’s bleeding bad.”

“Where is she bleeding from?”

“She’s bleeding from between her legs.”

“How far along is your mommy?”

“Six months.”

“And she’s bleeding between her legs?” asked Chase tossing his fair hair back. This was sounding more and more like a miscarriage. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell House. “Cameron and Foreman are there, can you let them in, please?”

Annie did as she was told.

 

Chase stepped into House’s office. “You got a really smart daughter there, Greg,” he smiled. House looked at Chase, confused. Chase was really Aussie-fried stupid. “She called 911 today. Ruth was bleeding.”

“What!?”

“Foreman and Cameron got her here because of Annie,” said Chase, knowing full well that a wave of anger was sweeping over House. “I just wanted to let you know that Ruth is okay.”

House’s eyes were still ballooned. “What happened!?”

“It’s a boy.”


End file.
